A Lesson in Grief and Family
by Kami Count D
Summary: Director Fury learned something today. Warnings. Graphic violence, gore, swearing, tragedy


Title: A Lesson in Grief and Family

Summary: Director Fury learned something today.

Warnings. Graphic violence, gore, swearing, tragedy

A/N: Trying to get back into writing. Been reading a load of Avengers fics, and thought I'd try my hand at a short one before heading back to my Transformers stuff. Felt good to write this out, although it came out rather dark. Don't really know what I was trying to accomplish here, but I hope someone enjoys it. I was thinking of naming it 'Grief and Fury' but then realized how corny that sounded. Thank the gods. I literally wrote this in 2 hours, and I dont have a beta (never have) so any mistakes are my own. Please read and review, it really gets me going when you do. If you squint really hard, you may see a Stark/Spangled/Banner ship in here and also Coulson/Barton, but this is not a romance, like, _at all_. Lots of swearing, but it's in Fury's POV after all.

Disclaimer: I don't own Avengers, Marvel, Iron Man or any related franchises. I make know money off of this.

Enjoy -o.o-

* * *

"Oh, _Fuck_."

Fury mentally sighed, even as he whipped around to peer through the wreckage to see what had Barton cursing with that special tone of '_We're all screwed'_ ringing in his voice. He didn't know how things could get more fucked, but since it was _Stark _behind him, he decided to withhold his disbelief.

The day had started normally enough. Fury, in town on other SHIELD business, had decided to sit in on one of the Avengers' team briefings (or as Rogers jokingly called them 'family meetings') that was being held in the Avengers Tower. He only knew about it because Coulson had mentioned it in passing, saying that he'd be away from headquarters for at least a week after the meeting, dealing with the fallout of the latest alien invasion (of Wisconsin this time, _what the fuck_? Who invades _Wisconsin_?). Barton had been pretty roughed up by that one. Lasers to the stomach were one of the few, very few, things that could put Hawkeye off his balance, but there you go. Fury knew Coulson had _special interest_ in the SHIELD archer, so he grudgingly let it pass, barring emergency.

So there Fury was, observing the meeting from the back of the long workshop, propped up between a fabrication unit and what looked like the beginning of a hovercraft when it all hit the fan. Hard. Everyone was there, except Thor, who was off world at the moment, taking care of 'important Asgardian affairs' or so he said. Fury wouldn't put it past him to be visiting his psycho-killer brother, however.

Though the talk in the meeting was serious, the rapport between the Avengers team was obvious, hard fought for, and caused a sense of relaxed companionship to pervade the room. Fury, though he'd never say it out loud, was happy that the Avengers seemed to include him in their little party. Barton even threw a few snarky comments his way, while Banner sat to his left, apparently calm and relaxed despite Fury's connection to American military and just about everything the Other Guy despised.

Rogers was just starting to gently scold Stark for some needlessly reckless action he had pulled involving a dairy truck, a combine, about twenty cows and a grain silo when one of the glass walls behind him shattered. The force of the blast forced Fury up and off his feet, and he came down hard, but managed to roll so that he came up, his customary weapon in hand. Bruce skittered off to his left, breathing hard and skin slightly green tinged, but obviously fighting the change. Hulking out in the middle of one of Tony's tech-filled workshops was not a good idea at the best of times, but especially when surrounded by some sort of laser-blaster wielding anti-military association and his weaponless teammates.

This was not going to end well, for anyone, for three main reasons.

One, JARVIS had not immediately alerted them to the intrusion, which means someone had managed to hack and possibly completely shut down their super powerful, super intelligent super AI. When Stark had a moment to think about that, someone was going to be in a world of hurt, and Fury was sure the other Avengers, inordinately fond of the dry-witted, loyal AI, would only back him up in hunting them down. Heads were gonna roll, and Fury was going to be _well_ out of the way when that started happening. He knew when to make a strategic retreat, and this would be one of those times.

Secondly, this group, maybe HYDRA, maybe AIM, maybe fuck-it-all-who-cares had managed to plan this so they would attack exactly when all but one of the present Avengers had no access to their weapons of choice. Of course, Coulson and Fury had their guns and tazers, but fuck all the help that would be against what appeared to be Kevlar and helmet wearing idiots wielding sonic blasters, Star Trek brand phasers, and FUCK, was that a flamethrower? Shit. Cap was shieldless, Barton without his bow and quiver, and Natasha with only about thirty percent of her knives. Damn. The goons had even managed to trap them in a room with only one exit, the only other possible option being an eighty story drop to the ground below. Stark, the only one with current access to a means of flight would be fine, but the rest of them he wasn't so sure of. Well, he'd seen footage of Iron Man catching more people from higher up, so he had a glimmer of hope, but only a glimmer

All of that also meant that this had to be, at least partially, an inside job, and when he figured out what fuckwad under his command had set them all up, the term 'cruel and unusual punishment' would seem like a gift compared to what he would do to the fucker.

Finally, Fury thought, it was never good to catch any of the Avengers with their pants down and corner them in. He knew that this was going to be a mess from the moment it started.

All of this only took a second to flash through his mind and then he was leaping, moving forward to help the team defend themselves with anything that they could find. Stark had slipped on the suitcase suit (and weren't their would be captors stupid for not being absolutely SURE that little piece of tech was out of the way) and was blasting his repulsors steadily, having to move very carefully in close quarters in order to avoid hitting his anyone on his team or his robots crouching in the background. He didn't seem to be having any trouble with it, moving quickly and with deadly accuracy, so Fury turned his back to him, moving to help the others.

They had only been fighting a few minutes when Barton's low spoken expletive cut through the laser screams, the thuds of fists going through plexi-glass helmets, and the sound of Coulson's tazer taking out man after man, his inventive use of death-by-office-supply seamlessly complementing Natasha's more obvious blunt-force-trauma-by-laboratory-stool technique. Barton knock someone out with what appeared to be an Apple computer covered in insulting stickers. Well, that was at least one thing he was sure Stark wouldn't mind being broken.

The entirety of the Avengers team froze and stared behind him, causing their pursuers to hesitate as well, and Fury _oh_ _so_ did not want to turn around, but he knew he had to, fuck, and turned only to see-

One of the robots. One of Stark's creepy arm-bots was flailing on the cement floor of the workshop, high-pitched squeals and hydraulic fluid flowing out of it and across the floor. It's head, arm, servo, _whatever_ was crushed and sparks flew from it in all directions as it writhed. The other two bots, they had names, Fury was sure they had names, but couldn't be fucked to remember right then, gathered around it, arm-head things bent low. They somehow managed to radiate agitation and worry without anything resembling a face. Fuck, what was wrong with them, with everyone? Why had everyone stopped fighting for_ this_? Now was not the time to be-

"Oh, shit." And Fury finally got really worried, because that was Steve, that was _Captain America_, and Captain America _did not curse_. "Oh, shit, that's Dummy. Shit, shit, shit. Everyone stand back, _now_." Fury turned to stare at him, unable to believe what was happening here, about to chew them all out and get them back to kicking the shit out of these infiltrators when Natasha reached out and grabbed his arm, tugging him solidly between her and Steve.

"Fury! Get your ass over here, now!"

Fury didn't even have time to reprimand her. It all went down way too quickly. He turned around in time to see Stark, kneeling beside his fallen, morbidly silent and still robot, blue fluid splashed down the suit and pooling between his armored knees, and then he was up. There had been about twenty five goons left, most of them either knocked out, dead, or having the wherewithal to fleewhen they realized this was a fight they were not going to win, that they had miscalculated. The rest of the mob, obviously the most idiotic of the group, had remained, and had frozen with the Avengers when Barton's hoarse curse had cut through the noise of the fight.

That had been their final mistake. They should have just gotten the hell out of there while they still could.

Fury watched, mouth hanging slightly open and his one eye stretched wide, as the two men closest to Stark simply _exploded_. Iron Man had placed his repulsors in the center of their chesst and had hit them full blast with arc reactor energy, and their bodies had simply been unable to cope. Before the rain of their remains had even splattered across the walls and floor, Iron Man was moving, cracking his fists into helmets, which more often than not removed them with the head still inside. Bodies dropped to the ground like flies.

One man, having dropped to the floor after a blow to the solar plexus with gauntleted hands had his skull crushed, helmet and all, under a heavy armored boot. Stark didn't even look down.

The last ten men tried to scatter, but had allowed Stark to cut off their only exit during the initial fighting, a stupid move on their part. Well, more stupid than attacking Iron Man on his own turf had been in the first place, and _then_ harming one of his robot children right in front of him. The only way they were going to escape was to go through the armored Avenger or out one of the shattered windows blowing in freezing air behind them.

They were not going through Iron Man.

Stark grabbed a man's head in his hands, ripped the helmet off, pressed his metal fingers into the man's eyes and _squeezed_. The goon's gurgling screams of pain were hellish as blood pooled up in his mouth, dripped down from his eyes and flowed like water down his chin, until with a sickly pop! the sound stopped and Stark dropped him like a wet sack of manure, moving on to his next target.

Fury figured now might be a time for them to move. He didn't know what else Stark was capable of when he was like this, but it didn't look like it would be pretty.

Fury, finally shaking himself, managed to herd the other Avengers back and away, letting them take out the two closest to them with well aimed hits to a nerve cluster or a stapler to the face. One man, stumbling back and pointing his flame thrower frantically as he panicked, tripped over something, possibly the head of one of his compatriots. He flipped back out the hole behind him, the glass shredding his back as he fell. His screams were lost within moments to the howling wind that was inherent when one was so high up.

Turning back, Fury saw that the last man was cowering, having dropped his weapon, with his hands over his head, whimpering. He was dressed slightly differently than the others had been, obviously some sort of leader, but none of his supposed authority was helping him now. Fury looked down and sneered disdainfully. The man had actually wet himself, and was huddled in a puddle of blood and urine, wailing. Fury actually felt bad for the sorry fucker. He took a step forward to stop this, was going to state that they needed at least one of the goons to be alive and lucid enough to question, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Looking back at Rogers and Coulson, he saw them shake their heads no. Well, fuck. He turned back to the scene in front of him, resigned.

"You." Stark's voice, filtered by the Iron Man suit, was as dark as Fury had ever heard it. The slight sound of hysteria that wavered in it was even more of a warning, and Fury wondered if they would be the ones fighting off the man when this was over. Grief did things to people, and even though he couldn't see it behind the blank metal of Stark's faceplate, he could easily imagine the manic snarling smile, cold at the edges and viciously cruel, that was spreading across Tony's face. He wouldn't be surprised if the little whack-job flew off the reservation after this. The man obviously cared about his bots more than what was seemly. He'd seen people with less power and more sanity than Tony Stark go off the deep end for less.

_This_, Fury thought with resigned dread, _this_ he did not need.

"You did this." Iron Man snarled. "You hurt Dummy._ My_ Dummy!"

"No, I-I didn't mean to, I-" and that was all the man got out before Iron Man moved across the room, faster than Fury had ever seen him move, and once again ripped off the helmet of the screaming man. Fury, expecting the same performance as before, steeled himself for another gruesome and bloody body to hit the floor.

But Stark, ever the contrarian, rarely ever did the same thing the same way twice.

He wrenched the man's head back and shoved his arm, gauntlet and all, down the man's wretching throat. That would have been enough to kill any man, but it was not enough for Stark, still caught in his rage, in his grief, in the thought that his oldest, most loyal friend was lost to him forever, because of _This_ Man.

Even through the mass of the man's body the whining sound of the repulsors heating up and firing could be heard. The man, choking, managed a garbled wail for half a second before he was silenced. Fury assumed that there wasn't enough left inside to make noise anymore. The man's hands went limp where they had been scrambling at Stark's armored thighs and his eyes went glossy, before his body started to glow at the throat, then smoke, then crumble from the sheer amount of heat being steadily pumped into him.

Even after the man had crumpled away, when he was nothing but foul-smelling dust and ashes, the repulsors continued to melt the concrete floor for a full minute before puttering out. The room was silent, the only sound being Stark's harsh breathing which was still being broadcast over the suit's intercom and the low hiss of the wind through the broken window. A fire crackled somewhere and wires fizzed, but all was still. Fury and the other Avengers stayed silentl, in shock maybe, until Iron Man just seemed to collapse to his knees. He crawled part way across the lab, flipping up his helmet, and pulling the robot's crushed head into his lap. He shakily pulled off his gauntlets, running his hands over the large, still metal frame through spilled oil and other fluids, and he sobbed.

Fury, still frozen himself, felt himself stiffen as the other Avengers shifted around him. He should… he should do something, get them all out of there, call an emergency meeting, because Iron Man had _obviously_ lost what little tie he had had to sanity, and everyone was up shit creek at this point. He had to- Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

"Tony?" That was Banner, moving cautiously around him. Fury wanted to grab him, pull him back, but then the entire team, including Coulson, was moving forward slowly. Steve and Banner were the first to reach him, crouching down. Steve with a hand on a hard armored shoulder, Banner's on his armored knee. The other Avengers gathered close, kneeling or sitting, all placing a hand or two on the shivering armor in front of them, providing support and comfort.

Fury cautiously moved forward, all his senses on high alert, but unable to drag his gaze from the scene.

Tony's eyes, huge and pained and wet, stared up at all of them, damp lashes blinking back tears. "Dummy," he croaked. "Dummy's hurt. He hurt Dummy."

"Yes, we know," soothed Banner, "But it's going to be all right. Okay, Tony?" He placed his other hand up to the wet cheek cupping it, running his thumb softly through the tear tracts. Fury wondered absently, had Stark been crying in the suit?

""Yeah, man." Barton leaned closer, an arm going across red and gold shoulders. "If anyone can fix him, it'd be you, right?" Stark just looked at him, grimacing, looking lost. "C'mon, wouldn't want us all to think you're losing your touch right? The great Tony Stark can't fix something? Might have to let Banner take over the company." Stark actually managed a small, humorless snort at that, while Bruce just rolled his eyes.

Steve smiled down at him, placing his hand over the arc reactor, and then slowly moving it to caress the crying man's neck. "Yeah, Tony. We all know you would never let one of your kids stay down. You'll have him up and making smoothies in no time. And we'll help all we can." He nodded resolutely, like only Captain American could. Tony, even through his panic, still gripping the downed robot tightly, gave Steve a raised eyebrow at that. The man blushed. "I, uh, I could help draw schematics or something? Or, uh, bring you coffee?"Tony snorted.

The team smiled, seeming to finally come down from some high, protected place. "It will be okay, Tony."

Natasha and Coulson simply nodded, not leaving the positions which served both to guard and sooth their broken team member. Fury, knowing Coulson as he did, knew that they wouldn't leave his side until all was well. He guessed he'd have to schedule the man another week or so off. Fucking goons.

Tony sniffed, rubbing blood and oil covered gauntlets over his eyes and up through his hair, and shivered once. He clutched the bot, he clutched Dummy, closer and nodded. "It'll be okay. I'll fix him. I will." He looked around at the faces smiling down at him, at the family that had gathered around him for support, not a one of them flinching away from him despite what they had all just witnessed. "Thank you," he said, smiling weakly, but looking less manic, less broken, less lost. His team smiled back at him, patting him soothingly and slowly helping him up, careful not to dislodge Dummy from his shaking grip. Fury had a sudden flash of pity for whoever had orchestrated this, especially when Thor returned and got wind of what had happened. According to Coulson, Thor l_oved _Stark's bots, and Thor loved his team.

Fury, finally standing down from Def Con 1, looked around at the damage, the carnage, and sighed, knowing that the paperwork for this would just be horrendous and that he wouldn't be getting anything out of his Avengers team for the next few days, barring world-ending emergency. They had all already apparently forgotten he was even in the room, or just did not care. In a way, that was comforting. Not being on their radar could have its advantages.

Kicking a helmet aside viciously, wincing when a head rolled out of it and splashed blood and vomit across his black boots, he shook his head. He didn't understand what had happened here, but he would find out. He would find out everything and then he, and SHIELD, and the Avengers would. Take. STEPS.

He didn't know much right now, but he did know one thing. He was NEVER going to mess with any of Stark's makeshift little family. Not even the fucking mechanical ones.

Oh, _fuck_. JARVIS was going to be so fucking pissed.

The end.


End file.
